


The Rescue

by Vivien



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ben holding a baby, Children, Established Relationship, F/M, Found Family, Foundlings, Happy Ending, Not Fitting In, Orphans, anger issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22595611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivien/pseuds/Vivien
Summary: “What is it?” Ben asked, watching the worry lines form on Rey’s forehead as she checked the message that had just pinged through her datapad.“Poe’s leading the relief efforts on Faratula. There’s a boy there, Force sensitive. Orphaned. Poe says it’s a pretty bad situation.”“Let’s go get him, then,” he said without pausing.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 7
Kudos: 56
Collections: For one is both and both are one in love: The Reylo Fanfiction Anthology's Valentine's Day Exchange





	The Rescue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cohava](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cohava/gifts).



> I wrote for this prompt: after the war is over, Ben and Rey start traveling the galaxy looking for Force sensitive children to train. Together, they face the challenge of child-rearing, of reforming a Jedi Order and how they want it to be like, and navigate their nascent relationship ans well as the shadows of the past.
> 
> While this piece stands alone as part of this exchange, it is going to be part of a series, because I've fallen in love with the foundlings as much as Ben and Rey. Thank you, sweet Mer, for the beta!

Lake Paonga was beautiful at night. Rey had never loved the fall of darkness before. It meant predators and being cooped up and cold for her. Ben loved evenings. He’d always felt more comfortable when the shadows came. Here on Naboo, their new home, the summer’s late twilight time had become both their favorite parts of the day. They sat together on a settee on their terrace overlooking the lake as the night eased down upon them. The lights from their data pads were the only glow besides the lightning beetles sparking in the bushes along the shore. Rey’s legs were tucked under her and Ben’s arm encircled her. He was the best pillow.

Rey’s datapad pinged, and Ben felt the worry lines form on Rey’s forehead as she read the message.

“What is it?” Ben asked. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head as he waited for an answer.

“Poe’s leading the relief efforts on Faratula. There’s a boy there, Force sensitive. Orphaned. Poe says it’s a pretty bad situation.”

“Let’s go get him, then,” he said without pausing. He and Rey had an unspoken understanding. They’d opened their new home to adult and more-or-less adult Force sensitives eager to harness their powers right after they’d settled in. Most of them were on their own, and Rey had often talked about maybe, one day, bringing orphaned children to their growing Skywalker Compound. Their youngest charge was 13, although Travael seemed much, much older after what he’d been through during the war. Ben wasn’t so sure about anyone younger joining them; he hadn’t been that good around kids even when he was a kid. But he was open to it. People were not easy, but the younger people - he understood them, their turbulent emotions, their feelings of loss. 

“We’re going to be stretched thin. I wish Finn would come back to continue his training, but I know his stormtrooper rehabilitation program work is essential right now.”

“We’ll figure it out. Why don’t we ask Prulaa if she’d stay here instead of going back and forth to Gungan City? I bet she would, for a few days at a time.” Prulaa was one of the rare individuals amongst the Gungans who had sensitivity to the Force, and, being an older female with child rearing experience, she had become invaluable to them when it came to figuring out some of the complexities of guiding five traumatized teenagers from disparate backgrounds as they became part of the community. The villa they had inherited from Leia was large, but sometimes it didn’t seem large enough for the squabbling that Prulaa assured them both was normal.

To his chagrin, Ben found that the adults could be trying and full of nonsense, too. He was trying very, very hard to be patient and better. If it weren’t for their time together, like right now, when the world was hushed and it was just the two of them, Ben wasn’t sure he’d be successful with reintegrating into any kind of society.

“Even if she stays, I wouldn’t feel comfortable if both of us went, with Carilla’s nightmares being as bad as they are right now…” She trailed off. Rey was the only one who could console the girl’s night terrors. Rey was pretty much the only one of the two of them good with people, period. Ben still had moments of awkwardness and brusqueness around anyone who was not Rey; he was learning how to smooth over his edges but it was hard. While everyone adored Rey - Ben included - the others were clearly not as comfortable with him as they were with her. They certainly didn’t turn to him when they were unwell or upset. This bothered him slightly. He craved acceptance now even more than he had as a lost and angry child. Things got better every day, and it wasn’t like anyone outwardly hated him or turned away when he headed in their directions. It was simply that they loved Rey more, and he couldn’t blame them one bit.

What he needed to do was clear. “I’ll go. You stay here. Jalxon needs more flying lessons anyway, so I’ll bet he’ll jump at the opportunity. If you can miss me that long, that is.” He gave Rey a lop-sided grin.

She crinkled her nose. “Somehow I shall find a way to survive.” The giggle as she stretched up to kiss him on the cheek softened her words. Ben tilted his face so his lips met hers while she was there for kisses anyway. He rarely let an opportunity to kiss Rey get past him.

They’d left Exegol together four years before. Ben didn’t know he was capable of the feelings he’d experienced since then. Her acceptance, her love, the emptiness within him slowly filling with the sweetest hopes and dreams - it was all still new, and he told himself that he would never take any of it for granted.

The kiss deepened, as it usually did, and Rey’s datapad dropped unceremoniously to the terrace floor. Rey moved to straddle his lap, greedily devouring his kiss, while she shucked off her tunic. Ben loved that she loved to be outside with him like this, the moon making her skin glow in its silver light. His luminous love, taking and giving in turns as he worshiped her. He kissed a line down her jaw to suckle a red mark at the base of her neck. 

“I love you, Ben,” she sighed, running her fingers through his soft hair. She loved playing with his hair, and he loved that she did. When her nails scraped lightly against his scalp, his skin tingled and he shuddered with the simple pleasure.

“I love you, too,” he responded, kissing her again. Those were the last coherent words they spoke for some time.

They made it to their bed, eventually. Rey fell asleep before he could and woke before him, which worked out fine. He held her as she began to lightly snore, letting the dark settle over him. There were no voices in his head, save for the self-deprecating hurtful ones that he realized were all his. Being with Rey helped keep them at bay.

It was always hard to leave her, even for a few days. 

\---

Jalxon had been silent the last leg of the trip to Faratula; the young Zabrek often fell into companionable silences with him and the others in the compound. The quiet was usually welcome, but right now, it weighed on Ben’s mind.

There was a part of him – a big part – that was genuinely pleased to give lost Force users a home and a purpose, even if he and Rey hadn’t quite figured out what exactly their purpose at Skywalker Compound was quite yet. But there was another part, a dark, slinking, selfish part that wanted Rey and her attention all to himself. It was the voice in the dark that would never leave, no matter how many Emperors or Supreme Leaders he slew. How easy would it be to divert their course right now and return home without this one youth?

It would be very easy. And it would be wrong. No one deserved to be left to their own devices to try and muddle through life with these powers, especially those still stuck in the unstable parts of the galaxy. Especially when he was, directly and indirectly, responsible for the trauma caused by the First Order’s rise and fall. It would be cruel and unfair for him to turn his back on anyone who needed his help. No, he would find this kid, bring him back, and their compound would keep growing. Their purpose would coalesce, and together with Rey, he would build something important, restore balance, take care of others. He would atone with every rescue, with every lesson, with every day that he tried to be a better person than the day before.

They leapt out of light speed with a shudder, orbiting the cloud wrapped planet of Faratula. While this was a world in the Inner Rim, it had been part of an unstable system since well before the final destruction of the First Order. The heavy Galactic Alliance presence in orbit around it spoke towards a recent peace.

“You know,” Jalxon said, breaking the silence. “It’s good to be quiet with you. I like it.”

Ben huffed with amusement. To hear Jalxon say out loud that he liked passing time with Ben, even in silence, pleased him to no end. “I was thinking the same thing. How about you set the coordinates for the final approach and bring us in?”

Jalxon nodded, grinning, and went to work.

\---

Dameron’s coordinates guided them to a war-ravaged town in the northern hemisphere where the orphan, Adar t’Fillo, resided. The humans of Faratula tended towards tall, willowy forms, nut-brown shades of skin, and purplish hair. Their culture was caste-based, although the rigidness of the system had been softened over the last couple of generations. 

Rey and Ben had contacted the town’s council before he left Naboo. It was important for them to clearly establish their positive intent when swooping onto worlds and taking people away with them, especially younger people. Now Ben stood before the assembled elders, all but one of whom he had to look up to, in their modest chambers. He bowed before them, as was custom and waited to speak until they had all nodded their heads to recognize him.

“As we explained, we’re building a new order of Force users fashioned after the Jedi Order of old. Our Galactic Alliance credentials are available for inspection, and we vow that we will give Adar a good home with us, if that is what he wishes.”

“We have examined the credentials, and we’ve been in contact with General Dameron,” said Basillith, the lead elder, looking down her thin nose at Ben. “We will take you to Adar at once, and he will decide.”

The elders led Jalxon and Ben across their rubble-strewn town to a dingy cement block house backed against an old forest. Trees wreathed the front yard of the house but their limbs could not disguise that the roof was bowed and pitted with holes as big as Ben’s hand in places.

“We welcome your arrival. The child is… difficult,” said Basillith. “Adar neither listens nor obeys.”

“He’s dangerous,” huffed another woman with an elaborate bouffant of bright purple hair. She held her skirts up as she stepped gingerly over the broken cobblestones of the walkway. “He brought a tree limb down upon Melecress and she was only trying to bring the baby more blankets.”

“He’s afraid,” the head of the town school chimed in, with a worried frown on her kind and open face. “His fear makes for poor choices.”

“What’s he scared of?” Ben asked, even more intrigued by the boy’s situation than before.

“That he will lose the rest of his family,” scoffed Basillith.

“I see,” Ben said, furrowing his brow. He thought Dameron had said the boy was an orphan. He’d imagined a teenager, like Jalxon, living on his own and scraping by. Not someone with a family. “Would you prefer to announce our presence?”

“No doubt he knows you’re here already,” Basillith said with a raised eyebrow. “He will more likely open a door to a stranger than to us.”

Ben exchanged a glance with Jalxon. This was odd. He reached out and knocked on the splintered wooden door. “Adar,” he said, his voice pitched low, infusing it with calmness and just enough persuasion to set a wary mind at ease. “My name is Ben Solo, and my companion is Jalxon Vot. Poe Dameron told us you might need our help.”

There was no answer for several seconds. Then the door creaked open slightly. Ben looked at the place he’d imagined a teenager would be standing and saw nothing. He looked down to where a small dark haired boy glared up at him.

“The one with the round droid?” The boy’s eyes narrowed.

“BB8? Yes, that’s him.” Remembering the lessons he’d picked up from watching Rey interact with others, Ben crouched down so as not to loom over the child. He was definitely not a teenager. Adar couldn’t be more than ten or eleven standard years.

“What do you want? I’m fine. We’re all fine. You can’t take them.” He pointed at the elders, accusingly, and shouted, “You can’t have them!”

Ben was more and more perplexed with every second that passed. He held his hands up, trying to calm Adar. “Hey, um, who are you talking about, kid?”

Basillith sniffed, “His sister and the infant.”

“We said we’d care for them, find them good families,” said the teacher, bowing her head. “He’s such a small boy, and so troubled. Especially after their mother abandoned them. Poor dear. She was troubled, terribly troubled.”

Ben didn’t care one bit for how these people talked about the boy as if he wasn’t there.

“I’m fine,” Adar insisted, “and so are they!” Through the crack in the door Ben saw Adar’s fists clenched in anger by his side; tears of frustration welled up in the boy’s eyes. The child’s presence in the Force was raw and angry.

It was at that point that Ben decided he’d do whatever he could – and bring back whomever he needed - to get Adar out of here.

“Are they both your sisters?”

The door opened a tiny bit more. Adar studied Ben, frowning. “No,” he said, annoyed. “Only Manna is my sister. The baby hasn’t chosen yet. They might be my brother  _ or _ my sister.”

“You’ve been taking care of them all on your own, right?” Ben couldn’t imagine taking care of an infant in his mid-thirties, much less as a ten-year-old boy.

Adar nodded curtly. “Since before Mother ran away. Da died and things weren’t good, and the baby came, and Mother got sick and not right and then she left. But I take good care of them. They have food every single day. And baths.” He glared at the elders. “They want to take them away, but Da always said family is all you’ve got, and you never let them go. No matter what.”

Ben’s throat worked as he clamped his lips into a thin line, the memory of his own father washing over him. 

_ “Dad…” _

_ “I know.” _

Basillith leaned in, speaking to the boy as if he were an infant, with a smile plastered across her face that did not reach your eyes. “Your siblings are too little. Proper care for them is impossible for a child like yourself. They would be cherished if you let us place them with real families, and then you could do whatever you wish with yourself. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Adar glared at the elder and the Force rippled and surged as it flowed through him, lashing the branches of the trees above their heads. The elder stepped back, alarmed, and the town council members fearfully whispered amongst themselves, shaking their heads in disapproval.

Jalxon, who had been silently observing this whole time, held out his hand to silence the elder. He crouched down beside Ben and spoke to Adar. “My family was lost, too, and I tried everything I could to save them. I cared for my youngest brother when our parents died. But I needed help. I wish Rey and Ben had found me before I lost him, too.”

Adar regarded them both, the furrowed lines on his pinched face relaxing somewhat as he calmed and the tree limbs grew still. “Who’s Rey?”

“My wife,” Ben said, his face softening and his lips curving into a smile that he could not - and would never – contain when he said those two words. “We’re Force users. As are you. What you did just now, what you projected - I know how huge and fascinating and scary it feels. So does Rey. We’re bringing Force users together on a world called Naboo where we can learn more about it and how to use it in ways that aren’t scary. Where we can take care of each other, just like you’re taking care of your family.”

Jalxton nodded. “The Skywalker Compound is a good place. A really good place. Ben and Rey saved my life.”

Adar’s gaze flicked between Ben and Jalxon, and the Force emanated from the boy, testing them, searching for intent that didn’t match the words they spoke. “Manna and Bo have to come. I’m not going anywhere without them.”

“Of course,” Ben said. He had no idea how to care for an infant, but the boy did, obviously. He’d been caring for one on his own for three months after all.

“Can we go now?”

Ben nodded, and Adar opened the door. The elders gasped and murmured as Ben and Jalxon followed him inside.

There was very little in the bare hovel, but it was passably clean. It was also dangerously unsafe for children; even Ben could see that, with cracks in the walls, exposed wiring, and rubble from the roof littering the spaces around the buckets that caught the rain water. Adar’s little sister, Manna, sat on the floor beside the grated electrical fireplace. With wide eyes, she clutched a rag doll to her chest and tracked his and Jalxon’s movements as they stepped inside.

“It’s okay, Manna,” said Adar as he began gathering up plates and cups and bottles from the kitchen counter. “She’s four, and she doesn’t talk a whole lot anymore,” he said to Ben. “And that’s Bo. They make  _ plenty _ of noise for all of us.”

Bo stood up in their dented bassinet and gurgled and then squealed with excitement, reaching their arms out to be held.

“Not now, Bo, we have to pack,” Adar said, seriously stacking packets of baby formula into a metal storage box.

Manna crept into the kitchen, her wide eyes never leaving the two invaders. 

“Adar,” she whispered, “who are they? Mama and Da said no stwangers.” Manna couldn’t quite make the “r” sound that was needed in the word, and Ben found that to be just about the dearest thing he’d ever heard.

“They’re not. They’re Ben and Jalxon, and Poe sent them.”

“Oh, Poe!” she said, venturing a smile. “Okay.”

”Manna, go get Da’s leather bag and put all of our clothes in it. Especially all of Bo’s socks, so their feet don’t get cold.”

Manna did as her brother ordered. Jalxon smiled and stood by Bo, giving them one of his fingers to grab. Bo squealed again, delighted, and grabbed on.

“Strong grip,” Jalxon said to Ben.

Ben shook his head, not quite believing this was happening, and went to assist the boy who was dragging the half-filled storage box from the kitchen to the living area, tossing in items indiscriminately as he plucked them from surfaces or the floor.

When they were ready to leave, Adar held Bo in his arms while leading Manna by the hand. He wouldn’t let either Ben or Jalxon help with anything but the box and bag that held their worldly possessions. He walked out the door and didn’t look back.

\---

Ben set the children up in the captain’s cabin of their primary shuttle. He preferred sleeping in the bunks anyway, when he wasn’t where he could curl up around the soft warmth of Rey’s body. Adar and Manna accepted their share of the ship’s rations eagerly; while the children may have “had food every single day” they hadn’t had much of it, and they were all three far too thin for Ben’s liking. Adar grudgingly showed him how he prepared the baby’s formula, just in case he might need to know for the future, although Adar assured him that he would take care of Bo as he always had, thank you very much.

After they’d eaten, Adar had crawled onto the bed, trying to hide his yawns, and pulled the duvet around him. Manna curled up beside him within the folds of the covers, and Ben moved the bassinet to hover over the bed where the older children rested.

“I just need to sleep a little while,” Adar insisted. “Bo was up all night last night. And the night before.” The way he said it made Ben wonder if he meant every night before that one, too.

Bo squealed in agreement and waved their hands.

“I can keep Bo with us in the cockpit,” Ben offered. “Show them all the blinking lights until they get tired.” He remembered being small and fascinated with the blinking lights. One time he had reached for a red light on the console, and his dad laughed and took his hand gently. “No, kid, not that one,” he’d said while Chewie chortled. It didn’t hurt to remember things like that anymore.

“No,” said Adar, alarmed. “No, we stay together.”

“All right, that’s fine.” Ben dimmed the lights in the cabin and left them to the quiet with one last look to check on them.

When he came back an hour later – an hour that seemed far too long to let three children go unobserved – the two older children were sound asleep. Bo was awake, bright eyed and sitting up in the bassinet playing with their toes. They reached out their chubby arms to Ben again, cooing. Ben reached for them and pulled them out of the bassinet into his arms. He felt clumsy and unsure as he wrangled the child into a comfortable position, and then he sat down on the chair by the bed. He wouldn’t risk Adar waking up and seeing he’d removed the baby from his presence.

Bo cooed and gurgled and grabbed a hunk of Ben’s hair. “Ow, Bo, not so hard,” he said, trying to pull away and then laughing as the baby grabbed more in their other hand. He gently disentangled himself, giving Bo a small screwdriver from his jacket pocket to play with. And, apparently, to chew on, since it went handle-first into Bo’s mouth. He probably should have washed that off before giving it to the baby.

Adar stirred and sat up, his eyes bleary with sleep. Manna kept snoring.

“What are you doing with Bo?”

“Playing with them,” Ben explained. “They weren’t asleep like you two, and I didn’t want them to get lonesome.” Or climb out of the bassinet – could that happen? It probably could, easily. Ben would have to keep a closer watch on these kids.

“Oh,” Adar breathed, his brow furrowing. “Why are you doing all this?”

“What, playing with the baby?”

“No. Helping me. No one else wanted to. No one else likes me. Not even Mother.”

Ben nodded his head and paused before speaking. The boy’s words had gone straight to his heart and bored a hole into the tender, still painful memories inside. “Because when I was your age, I felt the same way you feel, and I didn’t know how to ask anyone for help to feel less alone and angry. And eventually I stopped wanting to ask, and that made things bad for a long, long time. So if I can help you and your siblings, if we can save you feeling miserable or alone or unliked as you get older, I will.”

Bo took the handle of the screwdriver out of their mouth and tried to chew on the even less baby friendly end, but Ben took it away and replaced it with one of his large fingers. Bo babbled in even more delight at having that to chew.

Adar watched them, and then, after a few solemn moments, he came to his decision. He nodded and placed his head back on the pillow. Soon he was snoring along with Manna.

Ben played with the baby until they started rubbing their eyes trying to ward off the inevitable sleep that would befall them. Bo fussed a little and Ben rearranged them to press against his chest, their little body warm and soft against him in a way that made him feel strangely comforted. Soon Bo was asleep, too, and Ben knew he should probably set the infant back in the bassinet, but not yet. Not yet.

The baby stirred briefly when his commlink chimed. It was Rey, he knew, so he fumbled it out of his pocket and whispered, “Hey.”

“Ben, what’s wrong? Why are you whispering?” 

He could see the worry lines sprout along her forehead and he raised his voice slightly. “Nothing. We’re on the way back. There was a small change in plans, but everything is fine.”

Bo sighed contentedly and snuggled against his chest. Ben grinned. This was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He felt warm and grounded, his heart light.

“How’s Adar?”

“He reminds me of me. We’re in for some fun, I think.”

Rey snorted. “That’s fine. He’ll mellow out, just like you have.”

“We can only hope. By the way, Jalxon was a great companion for this kind of trip. Rey, I-” He stopped for a moment, clearing his throat as the emotion overtook him, making it hard to speak. “We’re really doing the right thing here. We really are. This - what we’re building - it’s going to make a difference. Not just to you and me, to the Galaxy, but to these people. To our family.”

“I know, sweetheart. I miss you.” 

He could hear the smile in her voice. “We’ll be home in 32 hours. I’ll comm you midway. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Come home to me safe.”

He smiled as he switched off the link, and he patted the baby’s back gently. He should probably have mentioned the kids, right? Well, Rey enjoyed surprises. 

\---

Rey shaded her eyes with one hand as their shuttle swooped down for a landing. Whenever one of them went away, the other would go out to greet them as soon their bond flared again, indicating their approach into the planet’s atmosphere. She grinned as the hatch opened, and then she stepped back in surprise as she saw Ben walking towards her down the ramp.

He smiled and nodded to the baby in his arms, their lavender hair wringing their head like puffy clouds. Two more children trailed behind him, a boy and a girl, hand in hand. The boy looked angry and suspicious, and the girl wide-eyed and lost as she clutched a rag doll to her chest that reminded Rey of cherished orange scraps in the confines of a fallen AT-AT far, far away. 

“So remember that change of plans I mentioned when we commed?” Ben’s smile was huge. “Here they are.”

She stared another moment, her mouth agape, and then she started laughing, delighted. “Welcome to the Skywalker Compound, everyone.” She waved at the two older children and then stared at Ben, who looked absurdly at ease with a baby in his strong arms. She smiled so hard it hurt her cheeks. 

“Welcome home.”

  
  



End file.
